Drifting clouds swept through the mist, as the bright moon cast its flowing light.
The gleaming moonlight illuminated the vermilion walls and dark tiles, with the faint outline of a crescent moon shimmering in the night sky.
A woman in a blue-green ruqun walked with her head lowered beneath the palace walls, her embroidered shoes tapping softly and crisply against the stone-paved path.
Granny Qu, holding a palace lantern, glanced back impatiently at the person behind her from time to time, urging, “How much longer are you going to dawdle, Miss Cousin?”
Her face dark, she cleared her throat and said, “It’s almost the hour of Xu. His Majesty has already returned to Xuanzheng Hall. You must deliver the items quickly.”
Lan Shu lowered her eyelids and responded slowly, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
The maid Qing Zhu, standing beside her, stole a glance at the woman. Even though some time had passed since they met her at the palace gate, she still found herself captivated by the woman’s beauty.
Noticing her gaze, Lan Shu turned her head and smiled.
She was blessed with exquisite features—a lotus-like face adorned with captivating eyes that sparkled with life. The blue ruqun hugged her slender, delicate frame, and though she wore no makeup, her beauty was already beyond compare.
Her cascading black hair was swept up with a single pearl hairpin, a few loose strands brushing against her neck, adding a touch of allure.
Lan Shu looked ahead at the palace path and took a deep breath. She had yet to recover from the shock of returning from death.
She still remembered the sensation of the poisoned wine coursing through her—a pain she never wanted to experience again in this lifetime.
Back then, when she closed her eyes, darkness and chaos enveloped her.
She wandered aimlessly through the darkness, unsure of how long she had walked, until a sliver of light suddenly appeared before her.
As she reached out to touch that sliver, a blinding white light erupted, tearing through the darkness and forcing her eyes open.
The scene before her was entirely unfamiliar. She found herself seated in a carriage that had just come to a stop, and outside were Granny Qu and Qing Zhu, waiting to receive her.
Throughout the journey, Lan Shu’s head throbbed with pain.
Unfamiliar memories flooded her mind.
It seemed she had been reborn.
Now, she was the cousin of the Pillar of State General’s household, Nan Shu.
Nan Shu’s father had been the prefect of Qingzhou and a distant relative of Rong Yuan, the Pillar of State General in Jingcheng. He passed away five years ago, leaving behind his helpless wife and young daughter.
Nan’s mother brought Nan Shu to the capital to seek refuge with the Rong family. The general’s household was wealthy and influential and did not hesitate to assist their relatives, so the two settled there.
At the end of last year, Nan Shu came of age. Consort Rong in the palace, taken with her beauty, devised a plan to bring her into the palace under the pretext of needing help preparing gifts for the Empress Dowager’s birthday, intending to use her to win favor.
Today, Consort Rong had arranged for Nan Shu to deliver items to the emperor, testing whether His Majesty might take an interest.
The memories in Lan Shu’s mind were somewhat hazy.
But she knew that she was no longer Shen Lan Shu—she was now Nan Shu.
Moreover, this was no longer the Yong’an era but the fifth year of Zhaoping.
The fifth year after her death.
…
Nan Shu wanted to inquire about something. The young maid Qing Zhu beside her appeared innocent and naive, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old—likely easy to deceive.
But the old granny behind her watched her like a hawk, as if afraid she might try to escape, making Nan Shu hesitant to act recklessly.
“In a moment, just deliver this bowl of soup to Xuanzheng Hall, Miss. His Majesty has had some wine today—it’s the perfect opportunity.” Without waiting to see if Nan Shu would respond, Granny Qu continued, “Since you’ve already agreed to Xiuyi Niangniang’s request, don’t dawdle and miss the timing.”
Though she addressed her as “Miss,” her tone held little respect. Combined with the other palace attendants standing behind her with lowered eyes and submissive postures, Nan Shu could guess who was in charge here.
To have her offer herself to the emperor in the middle of the night—Consort Rong truly didn’t view this cousin of hers as human.
Nan Shu’s fingers curled slightly around the food box. The current emperor… was it him?
At the thought of that man, a sharp pain surged in Nan Shu’s heart.
She closed her eyes, suppressing the ache and uncertainty within.
On the silent palace path, only their group’s shadows stretched long under the moonlight.
Nan Shu quietly observed her surroundings.
Embroidered eaves and carved roof ridges, brilliant lantern lights.
She had never entered the palace before, but the unique, imposing solemnity beneath the palace walls instinctively put her on edge.
After two ke (a quarter of an hour, roughly 15 minutes), a palace hall came into view.
But before they could approach, the distant hall doors creaked open. Imperial Guards dragged a corpse covered with a straw mat in their direction.
How did she know it was a corpse? A barely attached foot dangled exposed, swaying as it dripped blood in a trickling stream.
A figure dressed in eunuch robes stood at the doorway, disdainfully flicking his whisk. “Clean this up properly—don’t offend His Majesty’s eyes.”
On the ground, the blood gleamed starkly under the moonlight.
The steps of Nan Shu’s group unconsciously slowed.
Granny Qu also seemed frightened, swallowing hard before saying, “You… you go in now.”
What a joke!
Nan Shu had never wanted to see that man in the first place, and now the tyrant had just killed someone—did she have a death wish?
Glancing at the blood snaking across the stone pavement, Nan Shu’s delicate frame began to tremble uncontrollably. She quickly hid behind Granny Qu, clutching the older woman’s arm tightly. “Granny… I… I’m so scared…”
As she spoke, she suddenly collapsed to the ground, messing up her hair with a few frantic gestures while muttering, “I… I don’t want to go anymore…”
“This won’t do!” Granny Qu grew anxious at once—this rare opportunity couldn’t be wasted by her refusal.
She reached out to pull Nan Shu up. Unable to break free, Nan Shu simply rolled her eyes back and promptly fainted.
Nan Shu was carried to a side room. Keeping her eyes closed, she heard a young maid ask in a trembling voice:
“What… what should we do now?”
The old granny’s face darkened as she cursed Nan Shu’s uselessness.
The door slammed shut. Nan Shu waited a long while, only opening her eyes after confirming no one was around.
Above her was a dark blue canopy. She surveyed the room—rather cramped, with furniture made of ordinary red sandalwood. It was clear Consort Rong didn’t value this cousin much.
She had just sat up when Qing Zhu entered carrying a bowl of medicine.
“Miss, you’re awake!”
Qing Zhu hurriedly closed the door, scurrying to the bedside with choked sobs. “You scared Qing Zhu to death earlier! Thank goodness you’re alright… From now on, this servant will attend to you. Please don’t hesitate to order me if you need anything.”
Nan Shu smiled at her. She was about to speak when, through the swaying bed curtains, she caught sight of a bronze mirror in the distance—and her own reflection within it.
This was a face strikingly similar to Shen Lan Shu’s.
Nan Shu nearly jumped in fright.
She pinched her own thigh hard.
Hiss.
That hurt.
It really wasn’t a dream.